The Aerodynamics Of The Fork
by sheroaredback
Summary: Locker room kisses, arguments about how aerodynamic forks are, and Katie Bell goes a wee bit insane. I suppose those are givens in any equation involving Oliver Wood. NOTE: This is super old. I love how I still used the term 'lolz' in my author notes.


I'M BAAAAAAACKKKK!!! Miss me? Not much to say besides REVIEW!!!! Lolz . . .  
  
Things you (the reader) Need To Know: All right. Here's the dealio. Katie and Oliver are both in fifth year. So are Ange and Alicia. And Gred and Forge. There are a whole bunch of grammatical mistakes, as the POV is as if a teen Katie was recounting it in a diary or something. Some of them are just grammatical mistakes though. *grins impishly *  
  
And yes Claire, I have a fetish for muscles moving under shirts. I admit my problem, OK? Until they come up with a support group for it, I will be the only member of the SMA. Sexy Muscles Anonymous. Lolz . . .  
  
Disclaimer: These things are stupid. If I owned Harry Potter, or any part of Harry Potter, I would have a wad of money, correct? If I had a wad of money, I would have my blue and lime green Chuck Taylors AND the second season of Alias on DVD along with a few new CDs I want. But I don't have these. Therefore I don't own any part of Harry Potter. All right? Now get off my back . . .  
  
~*~  
  
"Chaser's practice, tonight after dinner. Be at the pitch ON TIME! No dilly- dallying or whatever that stupid phrase is . . ." he said as he plopped down between George Weasley and me at the dinner table. Of course, there was a bout of protests from Angelina, Alicia, and I. Even though I find him extremely hot and I have the biggest crush on him, I was not thrilled with his idea of a Chasers only practice. And as I said, I argued. Angie and Lish's disagreements were the only ones that really made a difference, anyways. Mine were blocked out by the mouthful of mashed potatoes I had stuffed my face with. "You're not getting out of it," he gave me a trademark grin and his arm brushed mine. I, as I am a stupid sack of hormones, blushed like mad. I made an attempt to hide behind my long brown hair, but it didn't really work. Angie and Lish noticed this at once and gave Oliver and I knowing looks.  
  
By this time, I had managed to swallow the food in my mouth, regain the color of my face, and spoke, "Why us? We're doing brilliant out on the field. It's those Weasley's that need help. They almost hit me with a bludger last practice." I grinned at George playfully, careful not to look Oliver in the eye. "Maybe that wasn't an accident," Fred joked from across the table, next to Angelina. Without missing a beat, I hit the end of my fork with my fist, disturbing the dinner roll plate and causing one of the mounds of bread to bean Fred straight on the nose. Angelina giggled and Fred sent her a hurtful look.  
  
"If I only had aim I'd-" he started. I cut in with a grin on my face. "EXACTLY! THAT'S WHY YOU ALMOST HIT ME LAST-" "No, don't even start. I never said anything about not being able to hit a bludger strai-" He interrupted. Then, it was an all out war.  
  
"Don't try to deny it! I WIN! And you-"  
  
"To hit a bludger you have a bat. With a bread roll, it's totally different. The prongs on a fork aren't as aerody-"  
  
"NOOOO! Don't even try to blame it on the utensils. I still wi-"  
  
"I'm telling you! AERODYNAMICS OF THE FORK! They don't exist. You can't hit anything straight with a-"  
  
"Then how did I do it? Admit it, you need one on one with El Capitan here-"  
  
"IT'S A MIRACLE YOU HIT ME! THE CHASERS NEED ONE ON ONE WITH OLIVER!"  
  
We both glared at each other, and then realized it was a lost cause to argue about whether it was easier to hit an object with a fork or a bat, so we finished our meal talking with George and various other people at the table. As soon as it was time to leave, Angie, Lish, Oliver, and I stood up and headed towards the big double doors at the end of the hall. "Face it, I won." Fred said smugly as he took another bite of macaroni and cheese. "No you didn't." I replied and kept walking. Oliver chuckled and looked at me, eyes sparkling with a smile on his face. I blushed. Again. "NUH UH!" he challenged. I kept on walking.  
  
"Did she really win?" he asked a squeaky little first year. The small boy blinked and said, "She verbally kicked your ass." Fred turned around moodily and with a grim expression, finished the rest of his pumpkin juice in one gulp as George and Harry chuckled from the other side of the table.  
  
~*~  
  
The practice had been hard. Oliver had worked us like dogs for two hours. We were so exhausted, that when Oliver would call something that Alicia, Angelina, or I would normally have a witty comeback for, we would just scowl and say nothing. NOTHING! That is a rarity in itself. But to be brought on by Quidditch? That should be illegal. Nothing you love should cause a teenage girl to stop talking. That's, like, defying some law somewhere.  
  
We were in the middle of a passing drill when it happened. A bludger broke loose from the ball box and had hit me in the arm after barely missing Alicia's face. I rolled over on my broom, wincing as I hit my collarbone on the neck of my broom. Oliver called practice. "That's it ladies. Hit the showers. We have clearly had enough for one night."  
  
I landed my broom using one arm and headed for the locker room with Alicia and Angelina as Oliver caught the bludger and wrestled it into the ball box. The girls had left to go talk to Fred and George (they are soooo in love with them. Once this whole Oliver thing blows over, they are SO in for it.) and as I was pulling on my jumper, Oliver rounded the corner of the girl's side of the locker room.  
  
"Let's have a look at that injury, Kates." He used my nickname. My nickname? All right . . . I give. What's going on? Oliver gingerly took my good arm and led me into the main part of the locker room and sat me down on a bench. He pulled out a first aid kit from under it, straddled the seat, and took a look at my injured left arm. Of course, I was blushing crazily. AGAIN! (It's becoming a cycle! Stop making me blush, Oliver! It's becoming a bit repetitive.) He gently pushed at the swollen part of my forearm. I had had worse injuries, but when a bludger hits you hard, it reeeeeeally hurts, so I naturally sucked in a bit of air. He looked up into my eyes with a concerned look on his face.  
  
"Sorry," His voice was soft and small as he went back to my arm. "It's OK. I'm going to kill Fred. He probably put a curse on the stupid ball." I spoke louder. "No," he spoke in that soft tone again. My insides melted at his tender voice. "Why would he do that to someone like you?" He was subconsciously drawing circles with his thumb on the hurt part of my forearm which made my blush deeper. Ok. I am a biiiig romantic. I've borrowed every single romance novel from the school library and had read a whole bunch from the muggle libraries close to my house. But this was just weird. Seeing my Quiddich infatuated captain being . . . sentimental? Towards me? There was something definitely in the pumpkin juice they had served Oliver at dinner. There is no way that gorgeous, sexy Oliver Gregory Wood was flirting with plain old Katarina Renee Bell.  
  
When my eyes focused again, Oliver looked confused. His face was clouded as he starred at my arm, which he had now placed an ice pack on. Then his vision cleared as he looked at me. He searched for something, and then made his move. He bent down, and lightly kissed my bruised arm. He looked up. "Does it feel better?" And then I responded. "It hurts here too." I said as I gestured towards my neck, where my collarbone was.  
  
WWWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWW!!!! This here is no locomotive! It's turned into a runaway train! It hurts here too? My neck? CALL SCOTLAND YARD! NEWS AT 11! KATIE BELL HAS LOST HER HEAD! FLIRTING WITH SEXIEST QUIDDITCH CAPTAIN IN HOGWARTS HISTORY! And what about Oliver? What would his mother think: him taking advantage of poor fifteen-year-old girls?  
  
Oliver's eyes flashed as he leant in and brushed his lips against my neck. I leaned into his touch as he kissed it again. His hand rubbed my arms as he kissed my neck again, only higher. I let out a small gasp. He scooted forward in his seat so our knees were touching and kissed my jaw line. He pulled back, his expression serious. I looked at him for a moment, and then I think I went crazy. Because I leaned forward and in one fluent motion I kissed him on the lips.  
  
OMIGOSH! What is he going to do? HE'S GOING TO HATE ME! He's going to pull back any second now, and I'll be humiliated! Where's the nearest exit out of here? And then I realized, he was kissing me back.  
  
Our eyes fluttered shut at the same time as I savored the moment. I was kissing Oliver Wood, the love of my life. And it wasn't one of those rushed things. It was slow, sweet, passionate, and perfect in every way. And then he pulled back. "Everything feel better?" He smiled, our foreheads touching. "Much." I grinned.  
  
"I agree with you though," Oliver said. "What?" I questioned. What had we been talking about? "Forks are just as aerodynamic as the next utensil. Or our beater bats." I sighed, rolled my eyes and walked ahead of Oliver, him laughing behind me all the way back to the castle.  
  
~*~  
  
The end?  
  
I don't know whether to continue it or not. It wasn't an original idea at all so depending on your response: "IT ROCKED!" "It absolutely positively sucked soooo much ass it's not even funny." "You could've made it cooler" I might just continue. Lolz . . .  
  
Peace, love, and hippy beads ~Duckie 


End file.
